


What Price Roses & Lavender

by merentha13



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-12 23:30:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merentha13/pseuds/merentha13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Partner worry</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Price Roses & Lavender

 

“Hello, again!” Sister Grace greeted him with a smile on her face but there was a hint of hopeless sadness about her when she looked at him.

He nodded a greeting back and made his way up the hall to his partner’s room. He could feel her eyes follow him. He had no use for her pity. But he was grateful to her despite that. She took meticulous care of her patient. 

The room was stark and cold with its single bed and small bedside locker. It spoke of loneliness and isolation. Pea-green walls – the colour was supposed to be soothing – not that the man normally occupying the room would know or care.

He walked to the empty bed and placed a hand on the slightly rumpled sheets. Still warm. They hadn’t moved him all that long ago then. He picked up the pillow and held to his face. No hint of the man he loved remained. The weeks spent in here had replaced the apple-spice sent of his shampoo and the exotic bite of his aftershave with the antiseptic and anodyne smells of the hospital. He mourned the loss.

Sitting down heavily in the single plastic chair he looked around his austere surroundings. There was nothing in the room to divert his attention so he was drawn back again to the reason he was here. Grief clenched his heart as he remembered. They’d only stood a few feet apart at the take-out counter. A few feet that had made all the difference – the difference between sitting in _this_ chair beside the bed and being _in_ the bed – fittingly another distance of no more than a few feet. If only he hadn’t insisted he was hungry; if only they’d picked something other than curry…

##

“Oi! Where are we goin’?”

“Home, mate. I’m knackered.”

“But I’m hungry, Ray.”

“And that’s news?”

“C’mon, Ray. It’s been a hell of a day.”

Doyle grunted in put-on surprise and then smiled at his partner. The knowing glint in mischievous eyes and the flash of the chipped tooth loosened something in Bodie’s gut and he relaxed a little.

Doyle squeezed his thigh. “There’s a curry place close by, will that work for your lordship?”

“Will do at a pinch,” Bodie replied in his best posh, upper-crust accent.

Doyle playfully punched him in the shoulder. “Berk.”

Bodie looked down his nose at Doyle and brushed the offending hand away. It had left a scattering of dirt on Bodie’s black jacket. “Commoner.” They both broke into laughter.

They drove in comfortable silence for a few miles, exchanging silly grins. Bodie sobered first.

“You all right? Took a tumble there at the end.”

“Yeah, only bruised me pride, fallin’ into that skip.” Doyle brushed at his shoulder. “I’ll never get the dirt outta my clothes.”

“Cowley wasn’t best pleased that Rodney got away.”

“The Cow? _I_ spent weeks undercover with that thug only to see him slip away at the last minute.” Doyle shook his head and rolled his eyes. “And he says the Cow’s displeased!”

“At least we got the weapons and enough information to put a dent in Rodney’s activities. Most of his contacts will be rounded up in a day or so. That should keep him out of business for a while.”

“Nah, scum like him – he’ll be back at it in next to no time.”

Sorry that he’d broken the lighter mood and desperate not to have Doyle sink into one of his broods, Bodie ruffled dishevelled hair, spreading more dust around the inside of the car. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Doyle, we’ll get him.”

“Berk,” Doyle repeated, parking the car in front of the take-away.

They placed their order and moved down the counter to wait for it. The sound of squealing tyres and breaking glass shattered the quiet night and they instinctively went for their weapons. 

“Doyle!” A voice called through the broken window. “This is for you.”

“Rodney.” Bodie started to move towards the door, gun drawn. 

A small object was tossed towards them and Doyle drew in a breath. “Grenade!” He pushed Bodie away. 

The explosion knocked Bodie onto his side. He felt a sickening crack as his hip hit the corner of the counter but his attention was all for Doyle and he watched, aghast, as Doyle was thrown backward through the window, his head making hard contact with the tarmac where he landed. 

Bodie dragged out his R/T, calling in a Priority A-3. He tried to get up, to get to Doyle, but the pain in his hip nearly took him under. Strong hands held him down. 

“Easy, son. Ambulance is on its way.” The unfamiliar voice tried to soothe him.

“Ray?” He called out weakly.

“Your mate?” The gentle voice asked.

Bodie nodded words beyond him.

“He’s being tended. Just lie still. You’ll do yourself more mischief.”

“Ray!” The world went black.

 

He woke in hospital, recognising the smells and stiff sheets and cracked plaster ceiling immediately. Cowley stood by his bedside.

“Ray?” he croaked, throat dry.

Cowley handed him a glass of water. “He’s in surgery. He took a blow to the head. The doctors fear a blood clot at the site of the impact. It will be a few hours before we know anything.”

Bodie closed his eyes. “What else?”

“You’ve suffered a fractured hip. A clean break that will heal up nicely provided you take care. No one else was seriously injured. The attack was meant for you two?”

“For Doyle. It was Rodney. He must have followed us after the wrap up.”

“Ach, Bodie. CI5’s finest, indeed. Couldn’t you tell you were being watched?”

“Sorry, sir. We were both out on our feet after the last few weeks. Never thought the bastard would hang around after the bust. Figured he’d be on the first boat to the coast.”

 

##

The oppressive silence that suffused this wing of the hospital was broken by the uncharacteristically hurried rhythm of footsteps. He grabbed for his cane and levered himself out of the hard chair. He limped to the door to see what the commotion was about.

“Mr Bodie!” Sister Grace collided with him in the doorway. He reached out a hand to steady her. “He’s awakened, Mr Bodie! Your Mr Doyle has come round!”

Bodie braced himself against the wall. His stomach dropped to his feet as his heart leapt into his throat. The world around him spun. Sister Grace was pulling on his arm. He realised she was still talking to him.

“We’d taken him to physio and John was working his legs when Mr Doyle told him to stop; Mr Doyle said that John was hurting him. John near jumped out of his skin. Oh, Mr Bodie, we never expected – you come on, he’s asked after you.”

He leaned on his cane, afraid his trembling legs wouldn’t hold him up. He looked at Sister Grace, took in her tears and her smile and said in a voice he didn’t recognise, “Ray’s - awake?”

“Yes! Yes, c’mon.” She reached for his arm again and paused. 

“Ah, Mr Bodie. You poor dear. It is a bit much, isn’t it? You sit yourself down.” She led him back to his chair and poured him a cup of water. “I didn’t think,” she prattled on, her voice strangely calming. “You’ve been here every week for – how long now – two months?” She nodded, answering her own question. “A good friend you’ve been. You must have given up too, and yet you still came out every week.” Her voice faded from his attention.

Ray. Awake. He _had_ given up hope. The doctors had been so sure that Ray would never regain consciousness. He had visited as often as possible despite his own injuries. He didn’t want Ray to be alone in this dismal place. Somehow talking to Ray during his visits helped him come to terms with what had happened to them. He’d almost allowed himself to accept that Ray wasn’t coming back and then – he stiffened in surprise and looked at Sister Grace.

“He’s come round?”

She laughed as she saw the meaning of the words finally sink in. 

“Yes, love. He has. You ready to see him now?” Sister Grace helped him stand and led him down the corridor that suddenly didn’t seem so dark or quite so hopeless.

 

The doctor and two nurses surrounded the bed looking bemused. Bodie’s eyes went straight to his partner. The body under the covering sheet was skeletal. The curls were cut close to the head. There seemed to be more grey. The face was gaunt and pale, emphasising the size of large, befuddled eyes. He’d never seen anything more beautiful.

He shuffled over to the side of the bed and took Doyle’s hand. At the contact, Ray looked up and met Bodie’s eyes.

After a long silence, he huffed, “and I suppose you ate all the curry?”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Tea & Swiss Roll Weekly Obbo 156. Prompts: feet/curry/picture prompt  
> Thanks to Anna for the beta. All errors are mine.  
> Just borrowing the lads. No copyright infringement intended


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